


Do We Have To Wait Till Our Worlds Collide

by Neliore



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Dubious Consent, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Satin is so doing it on purpose, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-09
Updated: 2014-10-09
Packaged: 2018-02-20 13:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2430173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neliore/pseuds/Neliore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jon was on the verge of breaking, all he needed was the slightest push.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do We Have To Wait Till Our Worlds Collide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bluetilo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluetilo/gifts), [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> It feels like forever since I wrote any Jon/Satin, and this world needs more of it. I dedicate this to my two very precious girls. Nothing like a rough dub-con to say just how much and how tenderly I love you <3
> 
> I feel quite silly, as one of them, [Heloisa](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Heloisa/pseuds/Heloisa) did beta, so this is hardly a proper surprise for her, but still... Thanks, babe, you are the best. And yes to every single one of your blue notes ;)
> 
> Title is taken from the lyrics to the song It's No Good by Depeche Mode

There was no denying that Satin knew exactly what he'd been doing for the past several months. Jon saw through all his pretences, all disguises and masks. Not that there were many of those - Satin was quite open in expressing his desire. Ever since Jon took him on as his personal steward, he followed him around Castle Black a bit more closely than a steward really should. He was always in Jon's way, smiling, blinking, tilting his head sideways, giving seductive glances, swaying his hips, saying things just bordering on inappropriate, always looking for ways to touch him, press or lean against Jon as if by accident, delighting in such disturbing closeness.

Jon felt he could do nothing to escape all this attention. Sometimes he thought he might not even want to. Life on the Wall, especially since he'd been made Lord Commander, was lonely, the cold was harsh and unforgiving, and quite often, late at night, Jon would find himself wondering just how his steward's lips tasted, and what it was that all those people paid for in gold down in that brothel in Old Town.

But then he would be ashamed of himself. Such thoughts were unseemly, not what a Lord Commander should be thinking about. So he felt guilty, so much that he never even looked for his release on his own. His hand wandered a few times, that much is true, but just before it touched his achingly hard cock, his conscience would kick in and he would growl with shame and frustration, moving the hand away, abandoning his cock to its lonely and painful throbbing.

If only Satin would stop. But he never did. The more Jon resisted, the more he made advances.

Once he was even so bold to place his hand on Jon's thigh and rub him beneath the table. He was in a meeting with Stannis, and Stannis was again being too difficult, so Jon tensed up and started moving his leg beneath the table in a nervous jittery manner. Satin was sitting next to him, writing some notes down, when Jon suddenly felt a gentle touch that then grew heavy and warm. His leg calmed down, but his heart was racing. And when the hand started moving up, he looked at Satin with bewilderment. Satin only smiled, and gave a gentle squeeze. His hand stopped its progress towards the crotch, but it stayed on Jon's thigh for the rest of the meeting.

On another occasion, Jon came to his chambers and found Satin naked in a bathtub. That might have been Jon's fault, though. He overheard some men talk the most lewd things about his pretty steward, and he saw the way some of them looked at him. He thought it would be wiser if Satin didn't wash himself in the common baths, so he generously offered him to use his bathtub whenever he wished. He hoped Satin would do it in the privacy of the little chamber adjacent to the Lord Commander's quarters, but Satin obviously had a different idea.

When he saw Jon's discomfort upon finding him like that, he apologized and stepped out of the tub, turning his back towards Jon in a way which could be described as modest if he only hadn't then bent over to dry his feet and pick up some garments from the floor, displaying his pert pretty ass in all its beauty, offering Jon a very good view of his most private parts. Jon couldn't get that image out of his mind for weeks afterwards.

If only Satin wasn't so pretty. But he was. Disturbingly so. Jon had never seen a person, be it a man or a woman, more beautiful. He was slender, slim and willowy. His dark hair was long, cascading down in heavy curls, framing his beautiful face. His skin was smooth, it looked so soft and tender. His mouth and his eyes, all his features, they were so delicate, almost feminine in their disposition. And Satin must have known the effect he was having on others just by his mere existence. Jon could not take it anymore. Day by day, his patience was thinning out. He was on the verge of breaking, all he needed was the slightest push.

The push comes in the shape of a dutiful steward, offering his tired Lord Commander a massage to help him relax after a long day. Jon declines. Satin insists. He leans over him, smelling like expensive spices, his hands touching Jon's stiff broad shoulders, then going down his back. Jon tries to move away, but Satin presses on. Jon protests, but Satin ignores it. Jon closes his eyes, breathing hard. Satin's touch gets bolder, no doubt attributing Jon's deep breaths to arousal. And he _is_ aroused, almost as much as he is angry.

He swiftly turns around, grabbing Satin's hand with a crushing force, pulling him down to kneel, as he himself stands up. This takes Satin by surprise. He is on his knees, his big eyes open wide, fear on his pretty face quite obvious. Jon then hurls him across the room. He steps over Satin, watching him tremble, sprawled on the floor.

Satin tries to sit up, but Jon yanks him down by his hair roughly, making him yelp in pain. He kneels on top of him and starts tugging furiously at the laces of Satin's shirt.

"Lord Commander, Jon, please..." Satin mutters, the tone of his voice weak and scared.

But Jon cuts him off. He grabs his jaw firmly with one hand and then places his forefinger over Satin's mouth. "Shut up," Jon growls at him, leaning closer, "You asked for this, now take it like a man."

After that, Satin is silent. He doesn't say a word as Jon, now too impatient for laces, rips his shirt and tunic, exposing his heaving chest, his pert little pink nipples hard and inviting. He runs his fingers over Satin's soft skin, his touch is rough and careless. Satin hardly dares breathe as Jon's hand starts undoing his breeches. Again, the laces take too long, so he tugs on them angrily, just to get them loose enough, then flips Satin over, pinning him face-down on the floor, and yanks the breeches all the way down to Satin's knees.

Jon lifts him roughly, slamming his lithe body over the chair. He then kicks his knees apart, and smacks Satin's ass sharply. His hand leaves an obscene red mark over the pale skin of Satin's cheeks, and that, as well as the slight whimper Satin lets out, makes him repeat that. Jon smacks him a few more times, adding more red to those lovely cheeks. Then he spits on his hand and rubs it along Satin's butt crack, his fingers pressing harshly. He pulls one cheek apart, revealing the little pink hole and then gives him one more smack right across the middle. Satin wails slightly, but doesn't move away.

Jon's fingers enter him without any preparation, he pushes in viciously, thinking how tight Satin is, despite all the experience he must have had. It could be cause it's been a while. But Jon doesn't want to now bother himself with these thoughts. He finger-fucks him, his two fingers going deep and hard, feeling the muscled ring of Satin's asshole clench around him as Satin sniffles quietly.

Jon comes down to spit on Satin's ass, then he rubs the spittle around the edges. The fingers are out and he shoves his cock in one sudden push, all the way in. Satin cries out in discomfort, but Jon again pulls his hair with one hand and smacks his ass with the other.

"You have teased me long enough, Satin," he growls angrily as he slams against Satin's hips brutally, "I am sick and tired of your wantonness, of your shameless behaviour."

Satin is grunting, squeezing the back of the chair so tight his knuckles turn white. Every now and then, when Jon rams his cock more viciously, a slight whimper escapes him.

Jon can't help but notice how beautiful his steward is, kneeling like this, his body bent over the chair, his pretty head leaning against its back, his lovely face pinched in a grimace of intense pain as he bites on his plush lips, trying to keep quiet. His slender body offers no resistance. Sure, Jon is stronger than him, but he surrendered much too easily.

Jon fucks him hard, he has never been this rough with anyone. The smooth line of Satin's neck is so inviting, so he falls down on it, kissing and sucking, giving small bites that then grow in intensity. Satin moans and closes his eyes. _That_ he seems to like. Jon sniggers and starts fucking him even harder. He smacks his ass once more, making Satin gasp. He watches, transfixed, his cock disappearing inside the pretty boy's ass over and over again, spreading him relentlessly.

"Yes, this is what you wanted," Jon says, angry thrusts accentuating his every word, "My cock deep in your ass. You begged for it with your every move, like a bitch in heat."

Satin whimpers again, and he opens his eyes, turning his head to look at him, his pretty dark eyes pleading and hurt. But Jon is merciless, his cock punishing the soft tissue of Satin's asshole as he pounds into him with more strength than he ever even knew he had. He fucks him so hard now he fears he will break the chair beneath them.

"Is this what you hoped for, Satin? Is it? Is this what you wanted?"

But what Satin does next takes Jon by surprise. Satin's hand goes to his hip where Jon's strong hands are keeping him in place, then he takes one hand and guides it further down to his crotch, where Jon feels the unmistakable hardness. He licks his lips and squeezes Satin's cock.

"Is this what you wanted?" he repeats, but his tone no longer as angry as before. There is a slight confusion, uncertainty it betrays.

"Yes," Satin moans, "this... and more."

Taken aback, Jon pulls out and Satin turns around swiftly. The second they only stare at each other seems to last forever. Then their lips crash in an urgent passionate kiss. They push the chair and fall down to the floor. Satin spreads his legs, lifting them up around Jon's hips, as Jon's cock dives back inside.

"I've waited so long," Satin whispers through the kisses, "Too long."

Jon feels a little self-conscious, but they have gone too far now, _he_ has gone too far to care. He is sucking Satin's lips, rubbing his tongue all over his warm wet mouth, giving small bites, as his hips snap wildly, his fucking hard and furious.

Satin writhes beneath him, he lifts his hips, meeting Jon's, following his frantic rhythm. He moans and soon starts sobbing, shuddering and shaking under Jon's strong powerful body. He comes with a loud wail, spurting his seed over their bellies. The way his asshole flexes makes Jon whimper, as he too finds his release, filling Satin's ass with his cum.

He lays on top of him, breathing hard, trying to catch his breath and fearing he will still not know what to say when he does. Satin holds him, caressing his back, his small white teeth leaving red marks on the whiteness of Jon's neck. Jon lifts his head and looks into his eyes. He feels ashamed now. And guilty.

"Satin," Jon mutters, "I... I am... I didn't want to..."

He doesn't really know what to say. But Satin smiles, wide and sincere. He kisses Jon, tucking a stray lock behind his ear.

"I know," he says, eyes smiling mischievously, "But I did."


End file.
